For the Love of a Man
by Culumacilinte
Summary: The Pearl aquires some new crewmembers, one of whom happens to be gay. See what happens when he falls for a certain captain... Rum, romance and a wee bit of angst. Chapter 11 up!
1. Chapter One

Chapter One  
  
It was hot and humid that night in Tortuga. Captain Jack Sparrow wiped sweat from his brow as he swaggered down the packed dirt road, avoiding fighting drunkards, and managing to resist the numerous whores beckoning to him from corners. He was on business tonight, he couldn't risk being distracted.  
  
Inside The Flaming Dove it was business as usual, as for any pub on the island. In a corner a man sat, nursing a flagon of ale, his hair hanging lank over his face as if to hide his identity. The door creaked, and the buzz of talk ceased for a moment as the company looked up to see who the new customer was. Upon seeing Jack, there were some shouted welcomes as the fighting and talking and drinking resumed. He ordered a mug of rum, and stood, swaying slightly, his eyes roving around for an empty seat. His glance flicked over to the corner, where the solitary man sat. He headed over.  
  
"Don' min' if I do, mate?" The man glanced up absently, seeming to have a hard time focusing on the pirate seated before him. He shrugged noncommittally, returning to his drink and paying Jack no more heed.  
  
'Must not be the conversational type...' Jack thought, taking a pull of his rum.  
  
"So!" he said, breaking the long silence, "'Oo do I 'ave the pleasure of addressing?" The man raised his head, and Jack got a good look at him. He had glossy reddish hair under his dirty, sun-bleached bandanna, long, and lank from lack of washing. He had liquid, peat-brown eyes, and above them, thick eyebrows. A sharp, clean-shaven jaw and high cheekbones gave his face an almost delicate look, but as Jack knew, from years of experience, appearances could be misleading.  
  
"Name's Robeson." He said. He had a smooth, lilting voice,  
  
'Irish.' Jack thought. At a look, the man called Robeson continued,  
  
"Finnbarr Robeson. Finn, if'n ye prefer it. An' who might ye be yerself?"  
  
"I," Jack proclaimed grandly, "Am Captain Jack Sparrow. I'm 'ere lookin' fer someone... or several someones really... aye. But tha's not the point. I need a coupla new crewmembers, we los' some t' the goddam redcoats a bit ago." Silence. "Ye 'ave a ship, mate? No? Lovely, Ye think ye're up t' the job?"  
  
A light kindled in Finnbarr Robeson's eyes as he scanned Jack. The infamous pirate captain intrigued him. His dark hair was wild and full of beads as was his goatee, arranged in two plaits. His kohl lined eyes, though dark, were warm and had a hint of gold, like honey, in their depths. He was- no, he wasn't tall, about 5'9, but he gave the impression of being tall. He carried himself with self-assured wit and grace, but Robeson sensed he could be deadly if he chose. Also, he added to himself, he wasn't half bad looking.  
  
"Aye, Captain Jack Sparrow, I think I am. D'we 'ave an accord?" Jack grinned roguishly and held out his scarred and callused hand. It met with Finn's, and luckily for him, Jack was just drunk enough as to not notice that he held on a bit longer than was necessary. 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
  
"...an' this 'ere is Young Dan. 'E's the cabin boy. 'Ere's Gibbs, 'e's first mate- an' that fello' ove' there is Atticus, the coxswain. Yonder beau'iful lass is Anamaria- the bo'sun. An' 'im o'er there is..." Jack Sparrow was introducing the new crewmembers- Finn, a surly looking man with a huge frizzy black beard, a tall woman with a green sash about her waist named Jade, and a lean wiry fellow called Weasel by his mates- to the current ones.  
  
They were still docked in Tortuga, and were going to spend one more night there. Apparently Jack hadn't gotten enough of his rum and his whores-  
  
"Don't think 'e ever do get enough. Ye'll see when ye get t' know 'im better." Anamaria had remarked to Finn- to leave yet.  
  
Later that night, the whole crew was gathered in The Faithful Bride, one of the preferred taverns in Tortuga. That is to say, those of the crew who weren't off whoring or were so pissed they had just passed out and had to be dragged back to the ship were gathered in The Faithful Bride. They were making toasts at the moment- in fact, they had been for the past fifteen minutes, but they were all so wonderfully drunk, they didn't care.  
  
"T' Th' Pea'l!"  
  
"T' th' sea!"  
  
"T' th' rum!"  
  
"T' our good la'ies 'ere!"  
  
Finnbarr Robeson was shouting and drinking with the rest of them, enjoying the sensation of being drunk with friends- it was so much more enjoyable than being drunk alone, where strange and unpleasant thoughts tended to creep up on you unawares. Suddenly he found himself raising his bottle.  
  
"T' our Cap'n, Jack Sparrow!"  
  
"Aye! T' Jack!"  
  
"Tha's Cap'n Jack, mates..." There was a chorus of laughs around the circle, and Finn found himself smiling fondly, as if at the quirk of someone he had long known. Granted, it was a quirk, but considering he had only known the Captain for a day... He wasn't worried for long however; the rum took care of that.  
  
"T' freedom!" Jacks voice rang out, "C'mon, I wanna hear every man-jack o' ye, t' freedom!"  
  
"T' freedom!" the crew bellowed, thinking nothing of the sentiment, but Finnbarr Robeson bowed his head, suddenly disappointingly sober.  
  
'To freedom?' He thought 'What do I know about freedom? No one knows about my... preference. No one would accept it anyway. Not my whole life, ever since I realized I'm queer, have I been free... Jack... No, shuddup, he's yer captain, you can't go thinking like that.'  
  
He shook his head, and took another swig of rum, but was unable to regain that blissful feeling of camaraderie he'd had before.  
  
'Blasted liquor- it isn't working.' He thought irritably, 'Oh, hellfire, I'm goin' back to The Pearl.'  
  
"Cap'n." He got up, and chucked Jack on the arm in a friendly manner, "I'm goin' back t' Th' Pea'l, savvy?" Jack looked up at him indignantly,  
  
"Why? We on'y been 'ere fer a bit- jus' star'ed enjoyin' meself... an' tha's my word, savvy?" As disheartened as Finn was, he couldn't help grinning at his Captain.  
  
"Savvy, Cap'n, sir." He quipped, tipping a mock salute in Jack's direction, "G'night t' ye all." He made an elegant leg in the crew's direction, but lost his balance halfway through, and nearly fell over. He righted himself, and walking with a drunkard's reel, he made his way down to the dock to board The Black Pearl.  
  
Finn sat in the on his cot, a small affair in the room he shared with Weasel, a fellow named Hans, another called Pip, and several others whose names his liquor-addled mind couldn't recall. He crumpled, burying his head in his hands.  
  
'Why him? Why Jack, of all people? Why, why, why...' He didn't know, sometimes he didn't want to know. He cursed himself, wishing he could just be like everyone else, to be able to enjoy the pleasures of women, of being completely intimate with someone, of being loved. 'Oh, God, why? Mebbe I should just kill myself. I was good, I was okay... until Jack came along... wonderful, witty, roguish, sexy, clever Captain Jack Sparrow... Oh, God...'  
  
"'Lo mate, thou' I' check in on ye!"  
  
"Wha'? Oh, hellfire, Jack. Whaddaye doin'?"  
  
"Tolja, a'ready, I was wunnerin' wha' might be wrong."  
  
"Oh." Finn sagged, but plastered a smile on his features; it felt painful. "Nothin' 't all mate- 'm fine." Jack smiled drunkenly, even his shrewd mind blunted by the infamous 'nectar of the Caribbean'.  
  
"Lovely- glad summat were'n' amiss." Finnbarr grinned forcedly,  
  
"Was gon' catch up on me s'eep- 'm fine, ma'e- y 'c'n go."  
  
"Righ' th'n- see ye." Finn nodded, and gestured towards the cabin door. As soon as Jack was out of earshot he flung himself up off the little straw stuffed mattress and howled his anguish to the thick night air. His scream went on until he no longer had the breath to sustain it. Freed of his tension, he collapsed onto his bed like a puppet with cut strings and allowed the blessed darkness of oblivion to envelop him. 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three  
  
Finnbarr Robeson woke to the sun glaring in his eyes and a splitting headache.  
  
"Begad..." He muttered, staggering out of the cabin, leaving his snoring bunkmates to their drunken dreams. He took his place at the tiller, absently munching on a strip of dried beef he had found in his pocket.  
  
'I need a post that gives me less time to think'  
  
He gazed out to the horizon, where the sun, blood-red, was rising. The waves were, as always, that unnaturally bright turquoise that was a trademark of Caribbean waters. The sky, flaming crimson and orange around the sun and fading out to a pale rose-lavender at the edges, was reflected off the sea. Finn glanced around to the helm, where Jack's distinctive figure was silhouetted against that sunrise. He wandered over, almost drawn toward him, but then, it wasn't as if the tiller was going anywhere.  
  
"'Tis a beautiful mornin', eh Cap'n Sparrow."  
  
"Eh? Oh, aye so 'tis, Mr. Robeson"  
  
'Mr. Robeson' Finn thought bitterly  
  
"Finn, if'n ye don' mind Cap'n." Jack looked at him sideways. "Y'must unnerstand. Ye like bein' called by yer full ti'le- I don'. Some people're like that." Jack nodded acquiescence, though it was not understood acquiescence by a long shot.  
  
After several minutes of awkward silence, Jack spoke  
  
'He's speaking to me of his own accord, yes!'  
  
"So, Mr. Ro- I mean, ah- Finn, aye, Finn, where're ye from? What's yer... ah... hist'ry, as it were."  
  
"Mmm? Oh, was born in Ireland-"  
  
'I like the way he says that,' Jack thought, 'Aire-lend.'  
  
"Me Da were a pirate 's well- 'Auld Shaun', they call'd 'im. Some call'd 'im Steelsheen, fer 'e were famed fer 'is skill wi't the Sco'ish claymore. Anyway- we star'ed movin' aboot when I were abou', och, eight 'er nine. Mostly 'round th' Bri'ish Isles- 'till 'e were kill't, an' I 'ad t' make a livin' fer me Ma, an' me sisters,'s well as meself. La'er, me Ma died- wasted away, so did me li'llest sister, an' I left, went 'on the account', as they sat. Tha's abou' it."  
  
Jack had a pensive look on his face as he trailed off- clearly Finn had more to tell than this- this was just his family life, his childhood. What about after he went 'on the account', his career in piracy?  
  
"Tha' all, mate?" Now it was Finn's turn to look pensive- how much did the captain suspect he hadn't told him, and why did he care, surely it wasn't usual for a captain to know the life story of all his crewmembers.  
  
"Oh, aye, much more, but I don' think I'll be telling ye all of it right now." Jack grinned; his gold teeth glinting in the growing light, a witty answer, perhaps even worthy of one such as himself.  
  
"Well said, mate..." He suddenly perked his head up, as if listening. "Ye think ye cou' ge' up in yonder rigging an' furl th' sails? Looks t' be a fair win' t' day."  
  
Finnbarr smirked "Aye aye, Cap'n. Furl th' sails, will do."  
  
He clambered up into the rigging with practiced ease, in a much better mood than he had woken up in, for it seemed to be a fine day, with a fair wind, and a very savvy captain. 


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four  
  
That night, Jack Sparrow slept restlessly, gripped in the throes of evil dreams.  
  
He was a little boy again, and his father was leaving them  
  
'No, Dad, don' go 'way! Don' leave us!' His mother wept, and he clung to her apron, fighting back tears himself, but determined not to show them. Suddenly she burst forth,  
  
'Finn ye can't do this- ye know how Jack needs ye. Begad, he loves ye, as do I. Don't go... please.' Jack nodded, his little boy face serious, biting his lip to prevent it from trembling. His father shook his head  
  
'I'm sorry Nel, truly, but... I've go'a go- m' ship'll be leavin' soon.'  
  
'Finnbarr Robeson, I'd never've thought this of ye!' His mother turned aside then, overcome with emotion.  
  
Wait... his father's name wasn't Finnbarr Robeson, it was Joshua- Joshua Sparrow.  
  
His father bent down, and cupped his small son's chin in his hands, and spoke,  
  
'I love ye, Jack lad- I hope ye still loves me, e'en though I'm leavin' ye. Ye don' know how much yer love means t' me.'  
  
'Aye, I think... I think I may love ye.'  
  
'As I love ye, Jack Sparrow.'  
  
The shabby old room faded in Jacks mind, replaced by roiling seas.  
  
The hot-metal scent of fresh blood was in the air. Rain and hail lashed his face, half-blinding him. The saltwater made his wounds throb. As he struggled to stay aboard his pitiful bit of broken planking, he heard panicked gasping and shouts for help, and then, near him, a shrill wail, which was then silenced. He turned and recognizing the man, gasped.  
  
He dived into the tempestuous black waters, desperately trying to get to his unconscious comrade. He gagged as a wave filled his mouth with seawater, but still fought blindly on, alternately spitting and gasping for air. When he reached him, he grabbed a hold of his waist and dragged him... ashore?  
  
There shouldn't be a shore- they were in the middle of the sea, but whatever, it was a dream.  
  
He laid the man out on the beach under the suddenly sunny sky.  
  
'It'll be all right, mate, 't will, I swear.'  
  
S'pose I'm gonna have to give him mouth-to mouth he thought with sudden relish as he realized, as though for the first time, this man was Finnbarr Robeson. He plugged his nose and bent down, placing his lips upon the motionless ones of the man on the sand. He exhaled, letting his breath flow into Finn's body. He could feel his blood stirring anew, his cheeks pinking up, reviving. He allowed himself a mental sigh of relief, but continued until a tongue snaked its way into his mouth, at which he jumped back and awoke.  
  
"Shit" he breathed to the dark. Moonlight was coming in through the windows of expensive glass he'd indulged his cabin with, striking the plundered carpet, a luxurious oriental affair. He shook his head.  
  
"Ye can' go thinkin' like tha' Jack Sparrow..." What had he been dreaming? Finn as his father, and then saving him from drowning? Then he recalled... in the one dream he'd told him he loved him, and Jack had said the same, and in the last one he'd nearly kissed him. Did this...?  
  
'No, you shuddup, Jack Sparrow. He doesn't like you, an' you don't like him, savvy?'  
  
You know he's queer, you know he fancies you, don't play the fool.  
  
'Well, whether he likes me or no- I certainly don't return the favor. I'm not queer.'  
  
You've bedded enough men it's almost a moot point whether you're queer or not.  
  
'Well... I was drunk then.'  
  
Some excuse, when aren't you drunk?  
  
'Well... maybe I do fancy him, but it's not as if it's going anywhere. He's part of my crew, I'm his Captain, we can't... you know."  
  
Since when does Captain Jack Sparrow get shy?  
  
'Shuddup.'  
  
Why, one might almost think you're getting soft. Perhaps you're in lo- oooo-ve, aye?  
  
'Nobody here is in love. I'm a pirate, I don't fall in love. I reserve myself for one night flings, that's all.'  
  
But that's not all you want, is it? It's certainly not all he wants.  
  
Jack shook his head, willing that annoying little voice in the back of his mind to shut up, he wasn't a schizo.  
  
Or are you?  
  
'Shuddup.'  
  
What was with him? Usually he slept like a log, and if he dreamt at all, they were good dreams; of the sea, or of Scarlet or Giselle. Sometimes both. At once. The only conclusion he could come to? He needed rum, badly.  
  
He got up and walked over to his chest, which contained a change of clothes, a letter from his father, and his sword on top of lots and lots of rum. He dug out a bottle, uncorked it, and took a swig, allowing himself to savor the burn of the intoxicating liquid as it ran down his throat. A warm feeling started in his stomach, comforting, like a fire in the winter, alleviating all his worries.  
  
But only for the moment. Said the voice  
  
'Shut up!'  
  
He held the bottle up to the light and gazed reflectively at the way the amber liquid swirled and changed in the moonlight. Piracy, the Sweet Trade, the Account, the Brotherhood, his Life. All personified in the bottle he held in his hands. It was a beautiful thing to look at and fantasize about, but it took nerves to actually do. It could kill you if you weren't careful, but if you were, it made life all the better for it.  
  
He raised his eyebrows, wondering since when had he become so philosophic. He was Captain Jack Sparrow, he lived in the moment. Things always worked out somehow, so he never bothered philosophizing about them, there was no point.  
  
But there might be a point, one never knows.  
  
Jack took another mouthful, shaking his head and thinking,  
  
'Shuddup.' 


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five  
  
"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirates life for me! We pillage we plunder, we rifle and loot Drink up me hearties yo ho! We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot Drink up me hearties yo ho! Yo ho, yo ho, a pirates life for me!  
  
We extort, we pilfer, we filch and we sack Drink up me hearties yo ho! Maraud and embezzle and even hijack Drink up me hearties yo ho! Yo ho, yo ho, a pirates life for me! We kindle and char, inflame and ignite Drink up me hearties yo ho! We burn up the citiy we're-"  
  
"Ye know i' 's well, then, aye?"  
  
Finn had been singing to himself vaguely, while tending to the tiller. His head snapped up out of his reverie as Jack spoke  
  
"Wha? Oh, Jack. Ye 'ave an uncanny way o' sneakin' up on me whenever I'm alone, y' know that?" Jack grinned impishly, tipping his hat at Finn  
  
"My pleasure." Finn looked askance at Jack, he was sure he did it on purpose; he did.  
  
"'Ow'd ye sleep las' night?" Finn looked at the man standing before him, noting that his hips were swaying slightly more that usual- he continued looking, fascinated by the sinuous grace Jack seemed to unwittingly possess. Jack smirked, and bent down to meet Finn's eyes.  
  
"Ye go' yer eyeful, then love?" Finn looked up suddenly  
  
'What did he call me?'  
  
"Whassat? Oh, neh- why'd ye ask? Wait fer it, don' tell me- ye were up drinkin' werncha?" Jack flung out his hands, swaying in a most self- explanatory manner.  
  
"I couldn' sleep- 's not my fault. I was 'avin' most disturbin' dreams- 'ad t' stay up." Finn smirked- he'd had similar dreams to Jacks, but unlike the unusually shy Captain, he'd loved his.  
  
"I know exactly what ye mean... love." Jack thought nothing of the sentiment, however, and produced, from somewhere in the depths of his coat, a leather flask. He took a pull on it and sighed, re-corked it and stuck it back in a pocket.  
  
"So- 'ow'd ye sleep las' night?" Finnbarr grinned at Jack  
  
"I slept won'erfully, thank ye." Jack looked Finn in the eyes and, gesticulating with his hands, swayed closer and closer until he could feel his rum-riddled breath on his face. (A/N-think when he's asking Will not to do anything stupid in the pirates cave)  
  
"Lovely." He wandered away, leaving Finn alone with no company but the tiller  
  
'He called me 'love'. What does that mean? Could he... love, like me? He doesn't know I love him, does he? I mean, how could he?' Finn rubbed his eyes- this was getting more confusing by the minute.  
  
Suddenly he realized the rudder had drifted off to the side; he rushed over to set it back to its proper position, and growled at it.  
  
"Fool rudder, blast ye, can't ye stay in place fer a minute!? One minute 's all I ask, but nooooo, ye can' do that- can' make it to easy fer me can ye, no, I's go'a be as hard as possible fer me, dunnit? Aye, tha's wha' I thought." He trailed off, this outburst at the tiller having given him no further wisdom.  
  
"Gah..." he wandered off, busying himself in the rigging.  
  
Later that day, Jack stood at the helm, lost in thought, absently caressing the wheel of his beloved Pearl. The irksome voice in the back of his head was getting louder;  
  
Look at him, wandering about like that- he's restless- so're you, don't deny it  
  
'I'm not denying it.'  
  
You want him  
  
'Shut up'  
  
You do  
  
'Don't make me break down in front of my crew- not now.'  
  
Talk to him, he'll understand  
  
'What in hellfire am I supposed to say?'  
  
Tell him you love him  
  
'I can't just go up to him and tell him I love him- that's thick'  
  
The act yourself- be Captain Jack Sparrow- that's who he loves. You can be seductive, this is not new territory  
  
'But I love him- I don't just want one good night. That's all I know about, I don't know how to be sincere –even if I mean it'  
  
Have you ever tried?  
  
'No, I'm... I'm... afraid'  
  
Jack had trouble admitting it even to himself. This was new territory. What he wanted- what they both wanted- was a loving, mutual, long-term relationship. He knew nothing about love. Sure he knew everything there was to know about desire, lust, sexual pleasure; but that was not what either of them wanted and needed. It might be an added bonus, sure, but no... He sighed. It was so unlike him, this confusion. Jack Sparrow was dashing and confident, assured, with a roguish smile always at the ready; not uncertain, trapped, confused, what was happening to him?  
  
"Jack, we're-"  
  
"It's Captain Jack, ye bleedin' imbecile! Captain! I's no' that difficult! Now bugger off an' ge' back t' work, ye goddamned bilge-sucker!"  
  
Joshamee Gibbs stood behind his captain, looking rather dumbfounded. He opened and closed his mouth several times like a fish, and then nodded  
  
"Right-ho, Cap'n. Jus' thought ye ought t'know: land's been spotted, an' Jim's seen what looks like some right foul weather we're comin' up on."  
  
"Thank ye, Mr. Gibbs, I'll see t' that." Jack scowled at the horizon he usually so loved, seeing the black smear of storm cloud he should have noticed.  
  
"Blast." He muttered under his breath 


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six  
  
A/N: This one took me ages, but... finally! Yes! Jack finally got up the nerve! Well he didn't really, it just sort of happened, but...  
  
The storm The Black Pearl was currently trying to weather was unlike any she, her current master, or any of the ones before him had ever witnessed. The rain lashed down in sheets, quite literally, it was like trying to see through a waterfall. The night was not, as in the literary axiom, as black as pitch, but rather a deep, deep blue like the depths of the sea that none but the ghosts of dead ships have ever seen. The waves towered over the ship, making her seem like a flimsy child's boat, rather than the sleekly impressive hulk she was. Though the crew was all but blind from the stinging saltwater and the sheets of rain, they scrambled and flopped over the deck and up in the rigging, trying desperately to get anything not locked in place that way or tie up the sails to prevent damage from the gale force wind. Lightning forked its blazing way through the sky, the sporadic, strobe-like light making visible for any who would see; the ship and its crew, waging what seemed a losing war against the wrath of the elements.  
  
Jack Sparrow was barely visible at the helm, wrestling with the wheel. There was a veil of water in front of his face, as his beloved tri-corn hat kept filling up with water, which would splash out to cascade down his face, which was contorted into a scowl of concentration. Even through all this, his mouth was twisted into a mad smile. He was Captain Jack Sparrow, and he was riding the storm. He took great pride in this fact- he was one of the only pirates in the Caribbean to have braved such storms as the Indian monsoons, and the infamous El Niño, and he knew he could conquer this one. Atticus the coxswain jostled his way over to Jack, a worried look on his face  
  
"Ehh... Ye think we shid drop saiw, Cap'n?" Jack looked at him, but in reality he hardly noticed him  
  
"No- she can hold up- she's met worse, 'en't ye, Pearl?" Actually she never had met worse, but that didn't matter, Jack was higher than many a potent weed, or even than the best of Caribbean rum could have gotten him. "Aye... Jack Sparrow an' 'is Pearl 'en't been bested yet, we 'en't star'in' now, savvy?"  
  
"Aye, Cap'n, as ye say..." Atticus said doubtfully, before being thrown to the sodden planking by the wave, which could have been deservingly compared to a tidal wave, which crashed into the ship. Suddenly a cry reached Jacks ears through the tumult,  
  
"Man overboard!"  
  
Jack rushed over to the man who'd shouted  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Th' new fella- Finnbarr something."  
  
A fey look lit Jacks features, and suddenly his eyes, instead of being filled with a lunatic joy, looked stricken.  
  
"Oh hell... bloody, fucking, hell..." he breathed from between clenched teeth. He snarled then, with a sudden ferocity that startled even those who had known him longest. "Somebody gimme a line- pull me up once I've go' 'im."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Shuddup fool, gimme the rope!" With time-honed speed and a fury at his fumbling hands, he knotted the rope around his waist and dove into the churning waters.  
  
As he surfaced in an explosion of foam and spray, he was struck by a sudden attack of déjà vu- his dream, a younger him, desperately trying to save Finn, in a storm almost as furious as this one. Icy waves broke over him, but he didn't notice, he didn't care. A fire of panic and desperation was consuming his body, driving him.  
  
"Blast it all," he muttered, "FINNBARR GODDAMN ROBESON, WHERE ARE YE?" A sob choked out unbidden, as he fought, swimming with all his considerable skill, though compared with the fury of the water, that seemed like hardly anything. He gagged, spluttering as seawater filled his mouth. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse, ever so briefly, of a man, also struggling, borne on top of a wave as tall as a house. "Finn!" He thrashed his way through the waves that pounded incessantly at him, yelling all the while, "Finn, hold on, I'm comin'! Finn! Finn!"  
  
He swam, gagging and choking and urgently shouting for what seemed like ages, until he collided with a limp and sodden form. He instinctively latched onto him, and looking, saw with a rush of relief that it was Finnbarr Robeson.  
  
"I'VE GOT 'IM!" He roared, yanking on the lifeline that tied him to the ship. Whether they heard his shout, felt him tugging on the rope, or just felt that if he hadn't found Finn by now he must be dead himself nobody knows, but either way, Jack fought towards his ship with one hand, clinging to Finn with the other, helped by the rope dragging him through the water.  
  
He and his waterlogged companion tumbled over the gunwale, dropping in a sodden heap onto the deck. Jack sat, coughing up water, spitting and breathing gratefully. He bent over to examine Finnbarr. He wasn't breathing. Jack slapped him experimentally, but receiving no response, remembered his dream, and said  
  
"S'pose I'm gonna 'ave t' give 'im mouth t' mouth." He stopped Finns nose, and lowered his head to the unconscious one of his comrade. As Jacks lips touched his, a fire raced through his body, and suddenly he forgot about the freezing rain and wind, all there was was him and Finn. He exhaled, breathing all his burning life-force into the still body of the man he loved.  
  
As Finn's mind slowly regained consciousness, the first thing he registered was a feeling of absolute bliss- something longed for, finally gained. His eyes fluttered open, and above him he saw Jack's kohl-rimmed lids, his hair dangling, and his mouth pressed upon his. He melted. The deck suddenly seemed a luscious silken pillow; he was in utter ecstasy.  
  
Jack saw, as in his dream, Finnbarr's cheeks pinking up, and his chest starting to move as he took breath from Jacks mouth. This feeling of symbiosis tugged at Jacks heart, never before had he experienced this. Captain Jack Sparrow, worldly as he was, was in awe of this sudden, innocent feeling of giving and receiving in equal share, ungrudgingly. Under his own lips, in what was no longer mouth to mouth, but a tender, unassuming kiss, Finn's moved in a mimic of his, molding more perfectly than, it seemed, any others his had ever touched.  
  
Suddenly Jack was aware that the whole of his crew was watching them, and he abruptly broke the kiss, hauling Finn to his feet, and clapping him on the back, and asking him if he was alright.  
  
"Ye a'right there mate? Thought ye were 'most gone fer a minute, I did."  
  
"Whassat? Oh, thank ye, Jack, I'm... fine, ne'er fel' better... 'n fact."  
  
"Right glad, I am- dunno what I'd 'a done, if'n ye weren'."  
  
"Aye."  
  
"Well- what're ye all stan'in' 'round fer, aye? The bleedin' storm en't over, ye mizzible sons o' cockroaches! Get a move on!" The crew quickly scuttled away to get back to securing The Pearl. The storm was lessening, almost on cue, as Finn stood, dripping and coughing.  
  
"Anamaria, take the helm!"  
  
"Aye, Cap'n."  
  
"C'mon mate-le's get ye back t' me cabin, savvy?"  
  
Jack threw an arm around Finns shoulders in a comradely manner, and led him to his cabin. 


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven  
  
It had been two weeks since that longed-for kiss, and one Captain Jack Sparrow was still not sure how it had happened. He had speculated and puzzled and dreamed, but no wisdom had come to him. One particularly fine day, as he stood at the helm, staring off into that elusive spot between sea and sky, the infuriating little voice in the back of his head voiced its thoughts  
  
Mate- there's now use trying to figure it out-it happened, it felt right, did it not? Just know that and it'll take care of itself.  
  
'But how, I can't just go up to him and kiss him again, I don't want to look like a fool.'  
  
Ask him into your cabin and talk about it  
  
'But, I..."  
  
What else are you going to do?  
  
'Aye, I suppose there's nothing else for it, is there?'  
  
No there isn't  
  
Jack sighed and resumed staring; he was never going to be able to do this.  
  
Finnbarr Robeson was up in the rigging, attempting to free an albatross that had somehow gotten itself tangled in the ropes. He neared the bird for a second time, this time readying himself for its retaliatory squawk.  
  
"C'mon, mate, ye c'n do it- jus' move yer blasted wing t' th' left an' there we... go... ach! Bloody 'ell." He glared at the bird, which was managing to look smug despite the fact that it was strung up in a ships rigging completely helpless. It clicked its beak at him, as if saying it would bite him again if it got the chance.  
  
"Ssss... bloody stupid bird, c'mon. Oh, hellfire damn that- Ye know, I'd jus' shoot ye if'n ye weren' a goddamned bloody albatross!" He shouted the last word and the bird started, flapping its wings nervously and hissing and gobbling in its throat. He took this opportunity to throw himself at the bird, taking it by surprise before it could bite him. Holding the albatross by the neck with one hand, one way or another he managed to undo the knots that held the bird captive. He moved away and let go as the bird burst forth in a fury of shrieking and flapping wings.  
  
"Same to ye, mate." He called after the retreating form. With that, he slid back down to the deck, and landed muttering to himself.  
  
"Bleedin' bird- neve' did like albatrosses, dunno why in hell it's s'posed t'be bad luck t' kill 'em- be a blessin' if'n ye ask me..."  
  
Gibbs stumped over and clapped him on the back  
  
"Good-o, mate- allus liked albatrosses m'self- wouldn't wan' any harm t' befall one."  
  
Finn gave him a withering glance and sauntered away, shaking his head and grumbling something about the 'bloody albatrosses'  
  
"Whassat, mate? Doncha like albatrosses?" Jack suddenly popped up, grinning impishly from ear to ear.  
  
"Wha' in - oh hell, damn you Jack..."  
  
"Tha's Captain Jack t'ye."  
  
Finn struggled to regain his balance and ended up leaning slightly backwards, hands out, swaying in a most Jack-like manner. Jack cocked his head to one side, looking at Finn in a manner suggestive of a teacher judging unusually good work from an unruly pupil.  
  
"No' half bad, mate- but ye c'n only have two 'er three fingers out a' a time, no' all of 'em. Put yer 'ead down a bit on yer neck, an'... there we go, lovely!"  
  
"As much as I may need it mate, I'm not 'ere fer lessons on 'ow t' stand like Cap'n Jack Sparrow."  
  
"Pity."  
  
"What d'ye wan't, anyway?"  
  
Jack opened his mouth as if to say something, shut it several times, and licked his lips  
  
"Well, as a ma'er o' fact, mate, I ah... em... well eh, I mean, erm... tha' is, well, ah..."  
  
Just ask fool 'Will you come with me into my cabin?' It's simple  
  
"Woudjacomwi'meintermecabin?"  
  
"Wot?"  
  
Jack blushed. Inwardly he berated himself  
  
Idiot! Jack Sparrow doesn't blush. Jack Sparrow means everything he does, he has no cause to blush! You had to bungle it, didn't you? Go on- it's simple.  
  
Finn looked at him, a grin twitching madly at the corner of his mouth.  
  
"Wot's this, Cap'n Jack Sparrow, blushing like a virgin bride? Surely, Cap'n..." He trailed off, leaving whatever it was he was going to say to Jacks imagination  
  
Jack realized suddenly he could turn this moment to his advantage  
  
"I'm sure" he whispered huskily "Tha' Captain Jack Sparrow 'as cause to be blushing like a virgin bride, as ye so well pu' it."  
  
Now it was Finns turn to blush, he turned his head aside, pretending to see something interesting in the sky, but a firmly calloused grip took his chin gently, and turned it so he was eye to eye with Jack Sparrow, who seemed to have steeled himself for something.  
  
"Woudja be so bold as t' accompany me t'me cabin, love?"  
  
Jack and Finn were inside the Captains quarters- or 'me inner sanctum' as Jack rather grandly put it. Jack Sparrow was lounging comfortably on his bed, leaning back on his palms, one knee up, casually regarding Finn. Finn stood, feeling more than a little awkward, until finally, the gaze of those unfathomable, gold flecked eyes became too much,  
  
"A'right, Jack, what is it ye want?" Jack cocked an eyebrow at him  
  
"Yer tellin' me ye don' know?"  
  
Finn did know, or at least, he hoped he knew, but the subject was spiky, one, he thought, best avoided. Jack suddenly spoke up, his voice taking a more regal and cultured tone as he did  
  
"Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boist'rous, and it pricks like thorn."  
  
"Indeed." The word was murmured so softly, a breath of wind, perhaps, upon Finns lips, and not a word at all, but Jack heard it, and softly he got up from the bed  
  
"I think we both know how true tha' is, aye?"  
  
In any other circumstance, Finn would have denied the irregular beating of his heart, the way his breath was catching in his throat, how wholeheartedly he agreed with Jack, but he could not; he was too far gone. He managed to gulp in a hasty breath  
  
"Aye..."  
  
Jack looked at him, clearly waiting for something more, Finn knew what he had to say, what he'd been longing to say ever since he'd met Jack, but he couldn't. His tongue seemed to be swollen; a useless lump of flesh flopping about in his mouth, all his pores seemed to expand, sucking in oxygen as if he'd faint otherwise. He didn't know what to do. Abruptly all reason and fear departed, leaving him Finnbarr Robeson, simply Finn. In this brief moment of clarity, he embraced Jack with a sudden fierce passion.  
  
As Finn launched himself at him, Jack was taken off-guard, but his fervor was all-consuming, burning, needing, and Jack found himself being swept up in it, and he returned the embrace.  
  
Finn's hands were running up and down Jacks scarred and muscled back; on an impulse, he suddenly captured his captain's lips in a kiss.  
  
This was not the kind of kiss Jack was familiar with. What he knew was the language of scorching passion, lust and desire; of battling, questing tongues and groping hands, not this. It burnt, indeed it did, but not the burn left when you lay on your bed, gasping, in a room reeking of sex. This burn was warm, as a fire on a freezing day in winter on the high seas, it spread from his lips to his heart, where it kindled to its full glory, letting him lean into the taller man and return it with gentle yet passionate sincerity.  
  
Suddenly the kiss broke.  
  
Jack had a vague smile on his face, and he brushed his lips lightly with his fingers.  
  
"Well, I think I just may love ye too, Finnbarr Robeson."  
  
A/N: I forgot to add this in- the Shakespeare Jack quotes is from Romeo and Juliet- Act One, scene... two, I believe. 


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight  
  
"Well, I think I just may love ye too, Finnbarr Robeson." Jacks words remained locked in Finns head for the longest time. The weather was glorious, as if to match Jack and Finn's feelings.  
  
If the crew noticed that they spent a more than usual amount of time with each other, they didn't show it. Lots of touching: friendly punches and slaps, embraces, etc. were not uncommon among the crew, so no comments were made. When the 'friendly touching' escalated into caresses, and occasional light kisses, the crew jeered at first, until Jack took the leader of the lot, Jim Phillips, and gave him his "What a man can do, and what a man can't do" speech, in the same manner he had with that Turner lad however many years before. Finn had to admit, it was extremely funny to see Phillips, whom he didn't like much, trying desperately to hang on to the jib boom. For a while after that, Phillips was unusually taciturn.  
  
Gibbs had spoken to Jack about his rather less than diplomatic relationship with Finn about five days after the fact.  
  
Jack had been at the helm, grinning vaguely to himself, as he steered The Black Pearl.  
  
"Ehm, Cap'n, sir, might I have a word wi't ye?" It was Gibbs, who had come up unnoticed behind him. Jack turned and examined him with wide eyes, just to disconcert him. When his first mate started to squirm, he let up,  
  
"Aye, Gibbs. Wha' is it?"  
  
"Well," Gibbs shifted and glanced around "It's about ye an Finn..."  
  
Jack raised an eyebrow in a look that was all polite interest, but the eyes underneath the brows were glinting.  
  
"'T ain't natural. 'm sorry an' all, but 't ain't. Ye're the Cap'n o' this goddamn ship, ye oughtn't t'be doin' such things as..." He left the implications blank  
  
"Mr. Joshamee Gibbs..." Jack said, as if in awe "are ye sayin' what 'tis I think yer sayin'?"  
  
Gibbs saw the fell light in Jacks eyes, and mumbled a response  
  
"I-ah never, well, I-ah, I did' but I didn't never... think er, ah, that is t' say..."  
  
Jack looked at him warningly  
  
"Gibbs..."  
  
Mr. Gibbs took a breath, as if he was about to continue babbling, but shut his mouth and slumped  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Ordinarily, Jack would have frightened him into shutting up, but somehow, he didn't feel that would really drive the message home. He let out a breath, and looked at the crumpled Mr. Gibbs  
  
"Oh, hell. Gibbs, I love 'im-'s as simple 's that'. I know 's not orthodox er wha'ever, bu' I do an' tha's all."  
  
Gibbs raised his chin ever so slightly to look at his captain  
  
"Ye do, don' ye? Ye really love 'im. But... but yer-"  
  
"Captain Jack Sparrow." Jack finished.  
  
"I know I am Gibbs, an' all o' ye know it's no' my style. 'Cap'n Jack Sparrow- 'e's a ladies man 'e is. Gives 'em the ride o' their life an' then dumps 'em, aye? Just ask any wench on th' bloody rock they call Tortuga, 'e's 'ad 'em all. Cap'n Jack Sparrow, love? Some'ow I'm thinkin' not.' Bu' I do, no ma'er 'ow unlikely i' may seem- I do."  
  
Gibbs looked at Jack, whose eyes, quite possibly for the first time in his adult life, were radiating sincerity and a desperate desire to be believed. He sighed  
  
"Well, I s'pose true love can' be denied,eh?"  
  
Jack glanced at the first mate, the way he said 'true love' had been ever so slightly mocking, but he decided to let it go.  
  
"Aye. Go on then, Gibbs, back t' work."  
  
Gibbs loosely saluted and turned his back and left. Finn walked up, seeing the troubled look on Jacks face.  
  
"Wha'd 'e want?"  
  
Jack, not looking at Finn, answered  
  
"Nothin' -'e was complainin' 'bout us. Told 'im..."  
  
He turned to Finn, and lightly tracing his face with a finger, whispered  
  
"Told 'im I loved ye, and t' leave us alone."  
  
"An' 'e listened?"  
  
"Aye- think 'e left feelin' rather guilty."  
  
Finn smiled and toyed with one of Jacks plaits, twisting it between his fingers.  
  
"Ow'd ye do these? Ne'er could plait 'air meself. Rope I c'n manage, in a pinch- but ne'er hair."  
  
Jack smirked at him  
  
"D'ye want me t'do yers, is that what yer sayin'?"  
  
"Did I say tha'?" Finn answered rather cryptically  
  
"I'll take tha' as an' 'aye'." Jack fondly took Finns glossy hair in his hands, twisting the reddish strands together. He leaned in and buried his nose in Finns hair  
  
"Yer hair smells nice. How d'ye manage tha? Yer a pirate, ye 'aven't bathed in... 'owever long ago ye bathed, an' yer 'air smells nice."  
  
Finn grinned mysteriously, and took a deep breath of the scent of the man beside him. It was heady and masculine; a combination of rum, his own sweat, and something else indescribable. A rich odor; like the colognes sold in cheap stores guaranteed to attract women- only much better, much more... Jack.  
  
"Are ye jealous?"  
  
"Should I be?"  
  
"Are ye sayin' ye wish yer 'air smelled like mine?"  
  
"Shuddup Finn."  
  
"I love ye too." 


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine  
  
"Jack! Blast ye, wake up!"  
  
"Whassah... Gibbs? Wha' 's it?"  
  
"Cap'n we're bein' attacked!"  
  
Jack suddenly sat bolt upright, staring at Gibbs.  
  
"Attacked? Who?"  
  
"I don' recognize 'er. Italian I think, Cap'n"  
  
"Her colors?"  
  
"Black flag, with a naked women crossed by a spear an' a pistol."  
  
"What kind o' ship is she?"  
  
"A schooner- built fer coastal raids- dunno what she's doin' attackin' a ship like the Pearl."  
  
Jack sat on the edge of the bed, then, without a thought for his modesty, began dressing, rapping out orders all the while.  
  
"Run out th' long nines. Haul th' colors an' make ready. Done attack 'less she does first."  
  
Gibbs scurried out, drawing his cutlass as he did. Jack knotted the striped sash about his waist, sticking his sword and pistol in it. He rushed out of his cabin, and quickly assessed the scene before him. It was about four in the morning. In the half-light of early dawn he beheld a ship advancing on them, a sleek, low-slung craft with a shallow hull, meant for, as Gibbs had said, coastal raiding. The crew were loading and readying the cannons, being as quiet about it as they could.  
  
As the ship neared, a gun fired, sending a plume of spray up scant yards from the Black Pearl. Jack raised his sword arm, blade at the ready, glinting with the deadly sheen of tempered steel. He remembered Finn talking about his father  
  
"Some calle'd 'im Steelsheen, fer 'e were famed fer 'is skill wi't th' Sco'ish claymore."  
  
For us he thought For me and Finn and with that he surged forward to the gunwale with a bloodcurdling battle cry, cracking off shot after shot and the ship now parallel to them.  
  
The battle was over. Captain Jack Sparrow and the crew of The Black Pearl had lost. The crew was bound to the mainmast; Jack had his hands tied behind his back. The captain of the enemy ship, the Bloody Rose, stood in a cocksure manner on the gunwale, holding a rope with one hand, leaning in a way which made her curvaceous body most obvious against the sun, supervising her crew. Suddenly she spoke, in a thick Italian accent:  
  
"M' name is Tatiana Torrini, and I am... how d'you say... commandeering this ship."  
  
Jack winced as he heard that, struggling against his bonds, no one commandeered his ship, no one took the Pearl from him. Barbossa had done it twice, that was bad enough, but this woman... no, she would not get away with this. The hulking black man standing behind him growled deep in his throat  
  
"Silence when de capitana speaks."  
  
Jack cheekily made as if to bite him, then called aloud  
  
"A parlay, if ye will, Captain Torrini."  
  
She looked at him, a smug feline look playing across her striking features.  
  
"Right then, Sparrow. Shall we retire to your cabin?"  
  
"Fine wi' me- s' a'right wi't ye."  
  
"Oswaldo." She called over her shoulder "Porti le bevande dell'alimento anche. Qualcosa si è adattare per questo uomo fine qui."  
  
"Sì naturalmente, Capitana."  
  
"È un tal idiot- li ha lasciati vedere che cosa posso uscire di lui comunque, noi. Osserva... seducable." "Vedremo. Scaturite solitamente comunque Capitana."  
  
Jack was nonplussed. He couldn't understand a word the two were speaking, so he decided to ignore it.  
  
When they reached the door of Jack's quarters, he opened the door and stepped back, affecting the manners of a gentleman.  
  
Captain Tatiana Torrini demurely inclined her head, thanking him as she glided into the cabin.  
  
Jack sat on his bed, his feet on the chest at the foot of his bed, leaning his head back, hips elevating - comfort was of the utmost, it always was.  
  
Capitana Torrini watched; seducing this one might be well merited- a specimen worthy of conquest.  
  
"So." Said Jack "What is it yer wantin'?"  
  
"Well, Capitano," she purred, "I was wondering if perhaps we could not work out a... deal, as it were."  
  
Jack quirked an eyebrow at her  
  
"An' wot kin' o' deal are ye thinkin'?"  
  
'He sounds intrigued- all I need to do is get into his bed and then he'll be putty in my hands.' Tatiana Torrini thought, narrowing her eyes to catlike slits. She unbuttoned her collar a bit more, and leaned forward, making sure he got a straight-on view of her cleavage.  
  
"Well- If I were to do you a favor- surely you would be willing to, ah... repay me in some way."  
  
Jack, looking at the way the was flaunting her chest, taking note of her seductive tone, and the way the smiled cattishly at his silence, and knew exactly what she was doing.  
  
Oh God- not now. Jack, find some way to keep this woman away from you.  
  
Jack bit his lip, he had no idea how to keep a woman away from his bed- he knew plenty about how to get them into it, but... He decided to play the fool.  
  
"Wot kind o' favor were ye thinkin' o' doin' me?"  
  
"Well- say I let you go about your way... I won't harm any of your crew... and... I can give you an enjoyable time..."  
  
"The bit abou' no' harmin' me crew soun's good- but, t' be quite honest wi't ye, I 'aven't go' time fer enjoyment right now."  
  
He looked up at her cheekily; she just smiled  
  
"Of course you have... what's life without a little fun, eh?"  
  
"Well- y'see, ordinarily I'd agree with ye. Wholeheartedly, e'en. But these circumstances 're, well- diff'rent."  
  
She leaned forward, her raven dark hair brushing his chest, her voice husky in his ear  
  
"Come now- you're Captain Jack Sparrow- this is not what you want."  
  
Jack leaned away, attempting to estrange himself from the woman forcing herself on him.  
  
"Actually, miss, 't is."  
  
However, she was not deterred  
  
"Jack," she breathed "You know you want me... I want you... come on. See how close the bed is, just a few paces that way, and there we are... just us, alone... no one would have to know."  
  
Jack knew that ordinarily he'd have been utterly aroused by this talk, but now... He didn't even need to think of Finn for this woman to disgust him. He stood up.  
  
"Tha's Cap'n Jack t'ye, an' if ye 'aven't got anything be'er t'do here than try'n seduce me, I'll be goin'."  
  
She also got up, wondering why on earth she had failed, then it hit her  
  
"You've got a lover haven't you?"  
  
Jack didn't answer. Suddenly she was in front of him, pressing her full red lips upon his, clutching at him. He made a muffled noise of protest, and struggled to get out of her lustful grasp. However, she was clinging too hard to his shirt, so he settled for biting her tongue, as it forced entry into his mouth.  
  
"Thamn oo- Thack Spa'ow" She lisped, attempting to examine her injured tongue. He grinned cheekily, reviving, now that she was farther away from him.  
  
"My pleasure." 


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten  
  
A/N: the last chapter sorta sucked- I'm sorry- but the idea was there, and I had to get it out before I left for camp.  
  
A/N: This chapter is R-rated, if anyone cares- it contains a sex scene described in rather poetic terms, so...  
  
It was late night on The Black Pearl; everyone slept, lulled by the gentle rocking of the waves. Everyone, that is, but Finnbarr Robeson. He was not restless, nor plagued by nightmares, he simply did not feel like sleeping. He snorted through his nose- it was hot out. In one deft motion he shucked his loose, sea-stained shirt. He sat alone on the deck, his trim figure illuminated by the silvery moonlight. Broad shoulders, wiry arms, an average waist. Everything had an ethereal look about it- the ship danced with silver reflections from the water. Finn looked up at the velvet canopy that was the sky, and examined the stars. Never were the stars so beautiful as at sea, he thought. He had always thought so, and never ceased to marvel at them. As he looked, he started to sing to himself, his clear tenor cutting through the warm night air of the Caribbean.  
  
"Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme Remember me to one who lives there She once was a true love of mine.  
  
Tell her to make me a cambric shirt Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme With stitches close, and something sum-something Then she'll be a true love of mine  
  
Tell her to something I don't know the rest Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme..."  
  
He trailed off- he coudn't remember how the rest of the song went.  
  
He recalled when he had first heard it- They had been sailing just of the coast of England when he had heard the strains of music.  
  
"Whassat, Da?"  
  
"That, lad, is an ol' English song. Name o' Scarborough Fair. 'S a love song- right pretty 'un too."  
  
"Where's Scarbow Fair?"  
  
"Scarborough, no' Scarbow. An' I doon rightly know. Mebbe 's jus' an invention- no' really a place 't all."  
  
"If'n ye lif' me up, can I see it?"  
  
"See wot?" "Scarbow- neh- Scarborough Fair."  
  
"Well, we'll see, aye?"  
  
With that he hoisted his son above his head, grunting with pretended effort. Finn could still recall the feeling of firm calloused hands on his waist. He gazed for the first time at the country of England. A shadow of rain cloud hung near the western shore, dark forest and wild moors dotted the landscape where there were no cities. Gray and green and the lavender of heather was England, nothing compared to Ireland, his home, but still lovely in its own right.  
  
As Finn remembered that day, he once again felt the firm grip of weathered, calloused hands snaking about his waist. He smiled and looked around  
  
"Jack."  
  
"Ye 'ave a lovely singing voice, love."  
  
"D' I wake ye?"  
  
"Neh. By th' way, ye 'ave a lovely figure 's well."  
  
Finn grinned wolfishly. He stood up and embraced Jack.  
  
"Oh, I could say th' same t'ye, savvy?"  
  
Jack looked at him warningly  
  
"'S my word, love."  
  
"O' course 'tis. Siddown, lover boy."  
  
Jack immediately collapsed into a relaxed sitting position, legs splayed out, leaning back on his elbows.  
  
"'S 'ot out 'ere."  
  
With that he slid his shirt over his head, baring a well-tanned and well- muscled chest, graced by the scars of old battles. Finn looked Jack up and down appreciatively. He didn't ask about the scars, he had enough of his own not to bother.  
  
"Cummere.... Cap'n Sparrow."  
  
Jack bent and kissed Finn tenderly on the lips  
  
"That's Jack t'ye, love."  
  
"Mmph."  
  
Finn reply was muffled as he nuzzled himself against Jacks neck, planting kisses here and there, licking the sweaty skin tantalizingly, sometimes nipping slightly. It was sufficient to convey his message to Jack.  
  
"Y'sure 's wot ye want, love?"  
  
"O' course I'm sure- I've been waitin' long enough."  
  
"Indeed." Said Jack in a perfect imitation of Norrington. Finnbarr recognized the voice, having met with the good commodore on several occasions himself. He snorted with laughter. Jack grinned- his classic, seductive, smug-cat smile. Finn couldn't hold himself back any longer.  
  
He ran his hand lightly down Jacks chest- memorizing the contours of it- the scars, the muscles, everything that made it different from the chest of any other man on earth.  
  
Jack shivered with pleasure; he could feel his pants beginning to strain with the beginnings of arousal; he groaned.  
  
"Ye feelin' wot I'm feelin' at th' momen', love?"  
  
"Aye, I think so, Jack Sparrow."  
  
Finn drew Jack into a kiss, which slowly grew in heat and passion until they were both flat on the deck, caressing each others bare chests.  
  
Jack was in his element. He slowly broke away and trailed his tongue down Finns neck, suckling and teasing. With his hands he massaged Finns back, as Finn relaxed into his arms; he ground his hips into those of his lover. The resultant moan was like water after weeks of a starving belly and thirst.  
  
Somehow, Finn was not quite sure how, they both ended up stark naked, the sheen of love-sweat on both their bodies reflecting the starlight.  
  
Jack was on top of Finn now, inside him, and Finn thought he had never known anything better than this haze of intense joyheatlove. Scrambled thoughts chased themselves round in his head. 'Jack. Kissing-loving Jack. In Jack. Am Jack. Smells so sweet- perfect, lovely. Need want have forever and a day. Stars. Jacks eyes are better than the stars.'  
  
Jack was trembling with exertion and passion and need for this to continue. He bent down for a moment, brushing Finns lips with and oddly chaste kiss. Finn grinned, panting.  
  
"Tha's- Tha's no' how... Cap- Cap'n Jack- my Cap'n Jack Sparrow kisses, 's it now?"  
  
He seized the back of Jacks neck and made a conquest of his sweet, rum- smelling mouth. He bucked his hips upward, meeting Jacks, causing a blaze of passionneedlust to race its way through both their bodies.  
  
Jack thrust himself deeper into Finn, letting loose a shrill cry from somewhere far within Finn.  
  
"Jack!"  
  
He drove himself on, sounds escaping his lips- he couldn't tell if they were words or just sounds of indescribable passion and love. He could vaguely feel Finns hands clutching at his hips. He knew he'd have bruises tomorrow, and he knew he'd treasure them.  
  
"C'mon Jack... you bastard- harder!"  
  
Jack willingly complied. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven  
  
A/N: Any suggestions would be most welcome- ideas/ plot twists, wotever, I hate to say it, but I appear to be suffering from a severe case of writers block.  
  
Finn woke to the sun striking his face. It slanted through the windows of Jacks cabin, showing the golden dust motes tickling his nose. He stretched luxuriously, not allowing any lucid thought to enter his head. All that was there was a vague feeling of happiness. He felt comfortably warm with Jacks naked body next to him, his arm draped over his chest.  
  
"Och, ooch."  
  
He flinched as he opened his eyes to meet full golden sunshine blazing in them. He shut his eyes and languidly rolled over. He allowed his gaze to rove over the floor, it was littered with rum bottles and various articles of clothing. Ah, yes, now he remembered. What a wonderful night. All that was there in his memory was the smell of rum and Jack and a feeling of love. He leaned over, brushing hair away from Jacks face. He traced the curvatures of his cheekbones and leaned down to kiss him.  
  
Jack woke slowly.  
  
"Mmm," He sighed contentedly, "'lo, love."  
  
Finn grinned impishly, and tweaked Jacks nose.  
  
"Ye migh' wanta ge' dressed, love- look a' th' time. Th' crew'll be wunnerin' wot's acome o' their beloved Cap'n, eh?"  
  
"Oh, but 's so very much more comf'table naked."  
  
Finn rolled over and got up. The sight of him standing there stark naked nearly got Jack started again, but Finn, seeing the hungry look in Jacks eyes, came over and slapped him lightly, getting into his pants. Jack raised his arms, looking upward pleadingly.  
  
"Begad- ye too? Will I ever 'ave a lover 'oo don' slap me?"  
  
"Prob'ly not."  
  
Jack grinned cheekily and exited the cabin.  
  
Three years later  
  
Jack Sparrow stood at the helm of The Black Pearl, skillfully guiding her. He had stood in the same manner for so many years now; it seemed he could fall asleep standing like this. His hips cocked slightly to one side, his hands on the helm, upper body swaying unconsciously with the rhythm of the water against the timbers of his ship. Ah, his ship- his ladylove: for long she'd been his only love, the only one he'd stay faithful to. Well- he thought- she still is his only ladylove. For, know ye all- there is one thing in all the world that Jack Sparrow loves more than his ship, the infamous Black Pearl. Finnbarr Robeson- an Irish corsair, taken far from his homeland, far from the seas surrounding it, searching for a way to quench the terrible thirst that had devoured him for so long. Finn was gay, queer, homosexual, however you like to say it. He'd tried to slake his thirst with his blade, with the blood of any who got in his way. With drink- long nights he'd stay at dockside pubs and inns drinking himself into oblivion. Once or twice he found a fellow pirate drunk enough to warm his bed for a night, but in the morning... With the sea- far he'd roamed. To Bombay, Singapore, India, even that strange land, Australia. He had the scars to prove it, but never in all his wanderings had he found the key to satisfaction, until, one night in Tortuga- that monumental night, when Jack Sparrow had recruited him to help man his ship, The Black Pearl.  
  
Now, he was happy. For the first time in all his life- for three glorious years he and Jack had been together on the Pearl, and he had been happy.  
  
Three years later, they both looked much the same- Finn's hair had plaits inserted here and there, a testimony to moments of contented boredom between him and Jack. His eyes had more laugh-lines around them. As for Jack, well, Jack had looked the same for near ten years, so another three really made little impact on his looks  
  
It was night on the high seas, the men all sat around, drinking, telling stories, playing cards. Finn had a bottle in one hand, and had taken center stage with Jack, singing, "A Pirates Life for Me."  
  
"C'mon, lads! Louder!" Finn roared as they sang, they danced 'round- somehow managing to stay atop one of the tables in the galley.  
  
"Ahh..."  
  
Jack sighed contentedly, nursing his flagon of weak ships grog.  
  
"'S 'mazing, innit?" asked Finn  
  
"What?"  
  
"'Ow much I'm enjoyin' this."  
  
Jack looked at him, one eyebrow quirked  
  
"An' why 'sactly is 'at so 'mazin'?"  
  
"Well- afore I met ye, Jack- I drank alla time- but I 'ated it- really- cos I 'ated meself, y'see. Now... I'm 'appy- seems a'ter three yea's I still en't got used teh 't."  
  
Jack looked at Finn, and the fireflicker dancing in his eyes revealed an odd look, look of pity; he was feeling Finns pain. Imagine going all your life without even a whore to spend you time with; how lonely it must be. He looked at Finn, serious for once  
  
"Love- don't go... 'atin' yerself- it don' 'elp- I love ye- an' I want ye t' love yerself 's well. Can' see a reason why anyone'd 'ate ye... 'ch less yerself."  
  
He kissed Finn on the cheek  
  
"Up wi' it, then, love."  
  
They clinked tankards. 


End file.
